


Possibilities

by tatooedlaura



Series: Life, Part 2 [27]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: Sitting him down on the couch, she climbed in his lap, straddling hips hugging pelvis as she nestled herself quite well into his chest, the apartment darkening measurably in a few moments time, the storm beginning to knock across the sky, “I just want to listen.”





	Possibilities

Sunday dinner went as smoothly as expected. Byers had the flu and had to cancel, meaning Frohike and Langley were untethered to reality and manners but given Jake latched onto them in a big way and they adored Maggie more than their own mothers, they were on their best behavior, teaching the youngling the ways of the nerd.

All three were ecstatic.

Scully left them to their own devices in the front room, listening from the kitchen for small explosions and possible maniacal laughter.

The rest spent the afternoon drawing on the sidewalk and driveway, neon chalk against dark asphalt, a budding artists dream come true, Mulder quiet as he concocted slightly pathetic looking stick cats and lopsided flowers.

Scully, floating through the atmosphere, an oddly precarious bundle of nerves, couldn’t focus on much of anything but not slicing the tips of her fingers off during cucumber mutilation hour. Maggie, noticing the far-off look in her daughter’s eye, took the knife away quietly and handed it to Joanna, settling Scully to rolling meatballs instead.

“Dana?”

Oh, her mother wasn’t as blind as she’d hoped, “not now, Ma, okay?”

“Honey …”

Saved by crashing from the front room.

God knew when to assist and when not to.

She really should attend more Sunday services.

&&&&&&&

For the first time in a long time, there were too many people, too much noise, too little space for fresh air and deep breaths. It set her on edge, her mind craving the cocoon of MulderAndScully, her body following with wishes of its own, a deep leather couch, a burbling fish tank, the blue glow of a TV set to 3am infomercial.

Mulder would have to talk to Skinner some other time.

She needed out and she needed out now.

After dinner, she pulled the plug, “would you mind if we left?”

Mulder, gearing up for his Skinner talk, looked down at her questioningly, whispering, “but I thought we were going to talk to Skinner?”

Her chest tightening, her mind beginning to shake, “can we do it tomorrow or something? Please, Mulder, I just …”

He knew even before she began trailing off, her body language obvious to anyone paying even a modicum of attention, “yeah, yeah, that’s fine. Maggie is good with us being gone for the night?”

“Yeah. She’s been alone a few nights already. We’ll come get our stuff later.” Honestly, it suddenly felt like she was nanoseconds away from sobbing tears, “I’m sorry.”

“Shut it and go hug people. I’m giving us three minutes to get out before I drag you out by your stocking feet.”

With a quick forehead to his chest, she nodded, “see you back here in three.”

Making the rounds, she hugged everyone, including the newbies in the form of Langley, Frohike and even Skinner, not lingering as with the rest of the family but still giving them their hugging dues. Maggie gave her one questioning look, then nodded, telling her that she’d be fine, she would call Charlie or one of the girls if she needed anything.

Sooner than later, they were in the Jeep, heading, at Scully’s insistence, towards Mulder’s, “because your fish need sustenance and I need your Gumby shirt.”

“Scully …”

“Don’t argue with Gumby.”

The apartment air was slightly stale, the dust motes a little more prominent than usual, the light diffused given the gathering clouds outside, the atmosphere building up for another night of storms.

Inhaling slowly, her lungs relishing their first truly deep breath in what felt like eternity. She felt Mulder scoot around her but shut eyes disguised his movements and she didn’t open them to see where he was going, knowing he couldn’t escape the 900-square foot apartment without passing her by. A slow exhale later, she heard him approach, his hands gripping the hem of her shirt, pulling it unsubtly over her head, hair flying, necklace catching, clasp pulling, bra unhooking, Gumby slipping, Mulder tugging her request into place, “what’s next?”

“Pants.”

With a very quiet ‘I know you so damn well’, her pants unhooked with the assistance of calloused fingers and some not-so-fancy footwork led her to be enrobed in brown, two washes away from falling apart t-shirt and green sweatpants, drawstring tight around narrow waist. Reaching up to gently maneuver his face into her line of sight, she commanded him with a whisper, “wait right here.”

Disappearing into the bedroom, she reappeared with items that screamed comfort, then proceeded to mirror his previous actions, his shirt, sweats, bare feet in place in two minutes flat, hand in hand not a moment too soon. Mulder couldn’t have loved her more if he tried, “unraveling fast?”

Sitting him down on the couch, she climbed in his lap, straddling hips hugging pelvis as she nestled herself quite well into his chest, the apartment darkening measurably in a few moments time, the storm beginning to knock across the sky, “I just want to listen.”

And they fall asleep, his heart a steady thump in her ear, his hands clasped around her back, feet on the table and problems checked at the door.

Skinner would just have to wait a little while longer.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He hated to have to move. Given the choice, he’d’ve remained beneath her until time ended but blood flow dictated otherwise, his legs, up to and including his ass, so far asleep he was worried he may have to pee and he’d never feel it. Dislodging her, however, had become relatively easy over the years, arm wrap, light squeeze, roll, cradle, shift and settle.

It was a highly technical series of moves at the beginning but he had, with a disturbing amount of pride, mastered it early in their time together, by the eighth or ninth case having broken it down to six simple moves.

He’d never woken her up.

Enduring pins and needles for longer than he really deemed necessary, feeling returned to his organs and glad he wasn’t about to soak his pajamas, he moved to the kitchen for some water and possibly, an extremely stale cookie.

And he called Skinner, sparing Scully the conversation, letting his boss know that his job description needed a slight rewrite and it would be happening immediately, in no uncertain terms.

Skinner, still sitting on Maggie’s sofa, had been hoping for this call for several years now, having seen Mulder disappear over and over again, often wondering himself if, one day, Mulder would just cease to exist as the world knew him, turning into the men he chased, leaving Scully behind. Hanging up, he turned to Maggie, who’d been not listening in curiosity, “has he proposed to her yet?”

Maggie, wondering just how much she should reveal, chose the truth, “yes. They have no idea when anything will come of it but he’s asked, she’s accepted and I’m perfectly happy with whatever happens.” Turning that motherly stare on him, “is that going to be a problem?”

For some absurd reason, Skinner settled his head back in the cushions, grinning towards the ceiling, “as long as I keep getting invited to Sunday dinners, I won’t say a word.”

And his hand crept into hers, an episode of MASH playing out before them.


End file.
